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GEORGE WASHINGTON 

A Dramatic Action 

BY 

PERCY MACKAYE 

SCENE DESIGN BY ROBERT EDMOND JONES 
NOTE ON PRODUCTION BY WALTER HAMPDEN 



THE GEORGE WASHINGTON MEMORIAL ASSOCIATION 
WASHINGTON, D. C. 






GEORGE WASHINGTON 



WORKS BY PERCY MACKAYE 



PLAYS The Canterbury Pilgrims. A Comedy. 
Jeanne d'Arc. A Tragedy. 
Sappho and Phaon. A Tragedy. 
Fenris, the Wolf. A Tragedy. 
A Garland to Sylvia. A Dramatic Reverie. 
The Scarecrow. A Tragedy of the Ludicrous. 
Yankee Fantasies. Five One-Act Plays. 
Mater. An American Study in Comedy. 
Anti-Matrimony. A Satirical Comedy. 
To-MORROW. A Play in Three Acts. 
A Thousand Years Ago. A Romance of the Orient. 
Washington. A Ballad Play. 

COMMUNITY Caliban. A Community Masque. 
DRAMAS Saint Louis. A Civic Masque. 

Sanctuary. A Bird Masque. 

The New Citizenship. A Civic Ritual. 

The Evergreen Tree. A Christmas Masque. 

The Roll Call. A Masque of the Red Cross. 

The Will of Song (with Harry Barnhart). 

OPERAS Sinbad, the Sailor. A Fantasy. 
The Lmmigrants. A Tragedy. 
The Canterbury Pilgrims. A Comedy. 
Rip Van Winkle. A Legend. 

POEMS The Sistine Eve, and Other Poems. 
Uriel, and Other Poems. 
Lincoln. A Centenary Ode. 
The Present Hour. Poems of War and Peace. 
Poems and Plays. In Two Volumes. 

ESSAYS The Playhouse and the Play. 
The Civic Theatre. 
A Substitute for War. 
Community Drama. An Interpretation. 

ALSO {As Editor) 

The Canterbury Tales. A Modern Rendering into Prose. 
The Modern Reader's Chaucer (with Professor J. S. P. 
Tatlock). 



IMPORTANT NOTICE 

By special permission of the Author, per- 
formances of this Dramatic Action, "George 
Washington," may be given by amateurs free 
of royalty, provided such performances are 
enacted for the benefit of the George Wash- 
ington Memorial Association, Washington, 
D. C, on or before June i, 1920. 

After that date all performances are for- 
bidden unless permission therefor has first 
been secured, in advance, from the author, by 
applying to him direct, at 27 West 44th 
Street, New York City. 

For further information in regard to the 
published text of the play and of the ballad 
music, see Preface of this volume. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 

A DRAMATIC ACTION 

WITH A PROLOGUE 



PERCY MACKAYE 



Scene Design by ROBERT EDMOND JONES 



Together With 

Comments and Suggestions in Regard to 

ITS Production, by the Author, the 

Scene Designer, and 

WALTER HAMPDEN 

FIRST impersonator OF THE TITLE-ROLE OF THE 

three-act play, from which this 
Action is selected, entitled 

WASHINGTON, 

The Man Who Made Us 

A Ballad Play by Percy MacKaye 

Published by Alfred A. Knopf, New York 






Copyright, 1918 

BY 

Percy MacKaye 
Copyright 1920 

BY 

Percy MacKaye 
All Rights Reserved 



By Tranefdr 

Ui- 28 1920 



PREFACE 



At the request of the George Washington Memorial Association, 
through its President, Mrs. Henry F. Dimock, of Washington, D. C, 
I am very glad to place this little volume at the service of the Associa- 
tion with a view to assisting its commemorative purposes at this time 
throughout America. 

The Dramatic Action here printed is a brief excerpt only of my 
complete Ballad Play, in three acts and a prologue, "Washington: 
The Man Who Made Us," published by Alfred A. Knopf, 220 West 
42nd St., New York; and this excerpt comprises one Action (the 
Ninth) selected from the fourteen Actions contained in the three-act 
play. 

By courtesy of the publisher, the plates of pages 162 to 191 of 
the larger volume have been loaned, free of charge, to print a thou- 
sand copies of this book, for distribution by the George Washington 
Memorial Association to various communities for use until the first 
day of June, 1920. After that date, if further copies of the text arc 
desired, inquiry should be made of the publisher; if permission to 
perform it is desired, application should be made direct to the author, 
at his address below, where it is requested that two copies of the 
program and press notices of all performances, at any time given, 
be forwarded to him. In all such programs the following Note is 
to be printed, at the head of the Cast of Characters: "This Dramatic 
Action, 'George Washington,' is the Ninth Action selected from the 
complete play, 'Washington, The Man Who Made Us,' by Percy 
MacKaye, published by Alfred A. Knopf, 220 West 42nd St., New 
York. For sale by all book sellers." 

At the present date announcement has been made to the public 
that Mr. Walter Hampden will present my complete play for the 
first time, on Washington's Birthday, 1920, at the Belasco Theatre, 
Washington, D. C, himself enacting the part of George Washington 
in the scenic production of Mr. Robert Edmond Jones. 

By the public in many parts of America Mr. Hampden's dis- 
tinguished acting in the title roles of "The Servant in the House," 
"Hamlet," and very recently "The Wayfarer" (under the auspices 



of the Interchurch World Movement), has been greatly welcomed 
as comparable to the noblest traditions of his profession; and the 
abounding gifts of Mr. Jones as a creative artist of the theatre have 
been notably recognized in his scenic productions of "Redemption," 
"The Jest," "Caliban," and "The Birthday of the Infanta." 

With a view to assisting the simplification of amateur produc- 
tions of this Action of my play, both of these artists associated with 
its professional production have written their Comments and Sug- 
gestions with my own, printed on the pages immediately following 
the dramatic context. 

The music and words of the ballad introductory to this Action 
("The Raggle Taggle Gypsies"), as well as the ballads with music 
included in the complete three-act Ballad-Play, may be obtained from 
the H. W. Gray Company, publishers of music, 2 West 45th St., 
New York — the ballad of this Ninth Action being illustrated by 
Dorothy Fuller (of the Fuller Sisters), the other ballads by Arvia 
MacKaye. 

My complete play, "Washington," from which this Action is 
taken, I began to write at Washington, D. C, in December, 19 17, 
and completed at Shirley Centre, Massachusetts, on July 4th, 191 8. 
Though it had long been partially projected in my mind, yet the 
human meanings illumined by our entrance into the Great War, and 
the world relationships implied by that vast decision, were compelling 
incentives for me to undertake and bring the play to completion, 
setting during that time all other matters aside. 

To-day, George Washington — dead — is for most people a figure 
remote, statuesque, dignified, cold, almost mythical; one to be re- 
vered, but not warmly loved. But in his own day — alive — he was 
a magnetic human being, passionate, patient, resourceful — a rugged 
personality, lovable and greatly beloved. 

It has been, then, my aim so to portray him in his strong prime, 
with truth to reality, that we of America to-day may be led to feel 
a more intimate affection for "the man who made us," and for the 
still contemporary cause which he espoused for mankind. 

Percy MacKaye. 



Harvard Club, 

27 West ^^th St., Neiv York; 
January 20, 1920. 



CHARACTERS 

OF THE PROLOGUE 

Voices of the People (chanting, unseen, or vaguely- 
suggested ) 

A Town Crier (Quilloquon) 

A Ballad Singer (Quilloquon) 

A Little Boy 

A Little Girl 



OF THE DRAMATIC ACTION 

Thomas Paine 
Lieut. James Monroe 
Gen. George Washington 
Col. Alexander Hamilton 
"The Figure'' 

The sound of a flute (QuilJoquon's) 

Voices of men (outside) 

[For the costuming of these characters of the 
Prologue and Action, and for the lighting of the 
scene, see the Comments and Suggestions at the 
back of this volume.] 



Place and Time: By the Delaware River, above Trenton; 
Christmas Niffht, IT]6. 

Scene: An Opening amid snow-laden Woods by Moonlight. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 

A DRAMATIC ACTION 




rxITVS -ACTA- PROBAT 

PROLOGUE 

(Parts i and 2) 

The stage is shut off from the audience by simple blue 
curtains, closed where they meet at the centre. 
Behind the curtains a far-off bell is heard ring- 
ing, with musical cadence. Now its tone changes 
to a deep, mellow pealing; and now its rhythmic 
cadence is blended with far-sounding chimes, 
through which low murmurous Voices of many 
people rise, fall and rise again more loud — like a 
great wind, heard distantly, over forest trees. 

At first hardly audible, the deep murmur grows grad- 
ually more articulate, till — between the pulsing 



162 WASHINGTON [Act II 

chimes — occasional words and phrases emerge 
distinguishable, above this flowing utterance of 
the chanting Voices: 

THE VOICES 

'When, in the course of human events, it becomes 
necessary for one people to dissolve the political 
bands which have connected them with another, — 

'And to assume among the powers of the earth the 
separate and equal station to which the Laws of Na- 
ture and of Nature's God entitle them, — 

'A decent respect for the opinions of mankind re- 
quires that they should declare the causes which impel 
them to the separation.' 

[As the murmurous Chant lessens to a lull, 
there is heard a single Voice intoning '^'Oyez!" 
and the blue curtains are seen to have parted 
slightly at the centre, discovering — against a 
background of dark — the Figure of a Town 
Crier, holding in his left hand a staff to which is 
attached a lantern, and of which the heraldic top 
is a hatchet-blade. 

The Crier holds near the lantern in his right 
hand a paper broadside, from which — after call- 
ing his Preamble — he reads aloud, intoning with 
the voice of Quilloquon:] 

THE crier 
[Quilloquon] 
Oyez! Oyez! People of America, hear ye! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 163 

This day, in the town hall of Philadelphia, duly 
convened,— this day in the year of our Lord, One 
Thousand, Seven Hundred and Seventy-Six, — being 
the Fourth day of July— forevermore, unto all peo- 
ples, declareth the Assembly of our people: 

'We hold these truths to be self-evident: — that all 
men are created equal,— that they are endowed by 
their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, — that 
among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Hap- 
piness,— that to secure these rights. Governments are 
instituted among men, deriving their just powers from 
the consent of the governed. 

'That whenever any form of Government becomes 
destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People 
to alter or to abolish it. 

'And when a long train of abuses evinces a design 
to reduce them under absolute Despotism, — it is their 
right, it is their duty to throw off such Government, — 
and to provide new Guards for their future security. 

'Such has been the patient suffrance of these Col- 
onies. 

'Our repeated petitions have been answered only 
by repeated injury. — A Prince, whose character is 
thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, 
is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. — 

We, therefore. The Representatives of the United 
States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, 



164 WASHINGTON [Act II 

— appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the 
rectitude of our intentions, — do, in the Name, and by 
the authority of the good People of these Colonies, — 
solemnly Publish and Declare, 

'That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought 
to be, — Free and Independent States! 

'And for the support of this Declaration, we mu- 
tually pledge to each other — our Lives, our Fortunes 
and our sacred Honour.' 

[^5 the Town Crier concludes, a Boy and a 
Girl run in from either side, raising their hands 
toward the paper broadsides, from one of several 
copies of which he has been reading. 

Handing to each a copy, he raises his lantern- 
staff, and as they run off, right, he follows, call- 
ing aloud :^ 
Oyez! Oyez! People of the Ages, — hear ye! 



(Part 3) 

In the distance, The Crier's repeated call of ''Oyez!** 
is dying away on the right, when on the left a 
fiddle begins to play the melody of a ballad- 
tune,^ during which the visible dim space be- 
comes palely luminous with a swirling greyness, 
as of snowflakes beginning to fall. 

* The melody of 'Raggle-Taggle Gypsies.' 



Act II] WASHINGTON 165 

And now— the fiddle having ceased— to a thrumming 
of the same tune upon strings, three tattered 
greyish forms enter from the left: the two Chil- 
dren and a Man, who is playing a dulcimer. 

All three — recognizable once more as The Boy, 
The Girl and Quilloquon — come singing the 
ballad-tune words, which they act out in their 
pantomime, severally assuming the parts, in sim- 
ple ballad fashion, of the characters their song 
refers to — Lord, Lady, Servants and Gypsies. 

the three figures 
[Quilloquon and the Children] 
*There were three gypsies a-come to my door. 

And down-stairs ran this a-lady, 0! 
One sang high and the other sang low, 

And the other sang Bonny, bonny Biscay, 0! 

[The Girl] 
'Then she pulled off her silk-finished gown 
And put on hose of leather, 0! 

[The Boy and Quilloquon] 
'The ragged, ragged rags about our door — 
She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! 
[The Little Girl runs off right. 1 

[The Boy] 
' 'Twas late last night when my lord came home, 
Inquiring for his a-lady, 0. 



166 WASHINGTON [Act II 

. The servants said on every hand: 

She's gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! 

[QuiLLOQUON turns and addresses The Boy.] 

[Quilloquon] 

*Come, saddle to me my milk-white steed, 

And go and fetch my pony, 0! 
That I may ride and seek my bride, 

Who is gone with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! 

[ The two run off, right. 

The Little Girl alone enters immediately^ 
left, followed — to the thrumming of the dul- 
cimer — by The Boy, who remains near his place 
of entrance and sings. 

While he does so, Quilloquon enters, passes 
him, and advances toward The Girl, looking 
about, seeming at first not to see Aer.] 

[The Boy] 

'Then he rode high, and he rode low, 
He rode through wood and copses, too, 

Until he came to an open field, 

And there he espied his a-lady, 0! 

[Quilloquon, approaching the Girl, with as- 
pect of lordly severity.] 
*What makes you leave your house and land? 
What makes you leave your money, 0! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 167 

What makes you leave your new-wedded lord, 
To go with the raggle-taggle gypsies, ! 

[The Girl] 
*0, what care I for my house and land? 

What care I for my money, 0? 
What care I for my new-wedded lord? 
I'm off with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! 

[The falling snow flakes grow thicker and the 
scene more dim. ] 

[Quilloquon] 
*Last night you slept on a goose-feather bed, 

With the sheet turned down so bravely, 0! 
But to-night you'll sleep in a cold open field. 

Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0! 

[The Girl] 
*0, what care I for a goose-feather bed, 

With the sheet turned down so bravely, ! 
For tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field — 

Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0!' 

[ With a swift, proud gesture of departure, lift- 
ing her last song-note to its octave higher, the 
little Girl goes off, right, with steps of gladness, 
while Quilloquon — in crestfallen grandeur — 
strides off with the BoY, left. 

The Girl's voice, however, has hardly 
ceased, and Quilloquon has not yet disap' 



168 WASHINGTON [Act II 

peared, when a Mans Voice is heard singing 
through the dim whirling snowfall:] 

THE man's voice 

[Sings huskily.] 
*0, what care I for a goose-feather bed. 

With the sheet turned down so bravely, 0! 
For tonight — I shall sleep in a cold open field 

Along with the raggle-taggle gypsies, 0!' 

[Then suddenly the Voice speaks, with sharp 
staccato.] 
Who goes there? 



NINTH ACTION 

The Mans Voice breaks in a raspy fit of coughing. 

While he has sung, the blue curtains have drawn back 
to the width of the full stage-aperture, revealing 
the Singer himself — a Sentinel, in ragged Ameri- 
can uniform, standing in the night near a low- 
burning camp-fire {left). 

The snow has ceased falling. The fire dimly lights by 
its gleam a space surrounded by vaguely dis- 
cerned walls of snow-laden woods, except in the 
background. There — between boles of trees, 
rising like columns of grey ice — an arch-like 



Act II] WASHINGTON 169 

opening gives glimpses of struggling moonlight 
and gusty, grey-black darkness, through which a 
low, muffled thudding and crackling murmur 
rise occasionally to the ear. 

Holding for a moment his musket poised, the Sentinel 
looks off {left), listening. Then, lowering his 
gun and turning to the fire, he crouches by it, 
blows his fingers, takes from within his tattered 
coat a little book, holds it open near the firelight 
and begins writing in it. 

While he does so, through the glooming aperture in 
the background, the tall, silhouetted form of 
Washington, in long military cloak, his hands 
gripped behind him, is seen to pace slowly past 
and disappear (right). 

The Sentinel stops writing, gesticulates to himself ^ 
muttering; then reads aloud from his book. 

the sentinel 
*0 ye, that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose 
not only tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth! Every 
spot of the Old World is overrun with oppression. 
Freedom hath been hunted round the globe. 0, re- 
ceive the fugitive, and prepare in time an asylum for 
mankind!' 

[Coughing slightly, he stares a moment in the 
fire: then writes again. 

In the background, the dim form of Wash- 



170 WASHINGTON [Act II 

INGTON, returning, paces past and disappears, 
left. 

Half rising now from his crouched posture, 
the Sentinel reads again from his book in the 
firelight, with gesture as of ardent conversation 
with another.^ 

'To see it in our power to make a world happy, to 
teach mankind the art of being so, to exliibit on the 
theatre of the universe a character hitherto unknown, 
and to have, as it were, a new creation entrusted to 
our hands, — are honours that command reflection.' 

[^Closing his book, he looks intently in the 
night. Then suddenly, dropping the book, he 
seizes up his gun, leaps to his feet and calls out:^ 

Who goes there? 

THE man's voice 

\^Answers from outside, leftJ\ 
Merry Christmas! 

THE SENTINEL 

Merry Christmas, yourself! 

[^ Man limps wearily in, through a gap in 
the snow-covered evergreens. The firelight re- 
veals him also forlornly clad in ragged regi- 
mentals. The Sentinel half lowers his gun.'\ 

What's your name, and allegiance? 



Act II] WASHINGTON 171 

THE MAN 

Lieutenant James Monroe, of the United States. 

THE SENTINEL 

[Saluting — a bit slouchily, like a civilian.'] 
*Which are, and of right ought to be, free and inde- 
pendent!' Pass, Lieutenant Monroe, in the name of 
our immortal Declaration. 

MONROE 

Immortal, Sir, let us hope, but ought to be isn't are 
by a long shot — whatever Mr. Jefferson hath immor- 
tally declared for us. 

[Sitting on a rock by the fire, he examines his 
foot.] 

THE SENTINEL 

[Bending over him.] 
Lord, lieutenant, your foot's bloody — bleeding bad! 
Here, wait a minute. 

[Tearing a strip from his own regimentals, he 
kneels down beside Monroe.] 
You need bandaging. 

MONROE 

Thanks, friend. We all do — in this uniform. 

[Behind them the shadowy form of Washing- 
ton paces past again, and noiselessly disappears. 

While the Sentinel is stooping over, wrap- 
ping his companions foot in bandages, MoN- 



172 WASHINGTON [Act II 

roe's hand — resting on the book — raises it. 
Glancing curiously at the open page, he mut- 
ters:] 
Hello, what's here? 

[The Sentinel looks up an instant, but goes 
on immediately with his occupation. Monroe 
reads aloud:] 

"These are the times that try men's souls. The 
summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this 
crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he 
that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of 
man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily 
conquered.' 

[Turning to the front of the book, he looks 
closely and reads:] 
"Tom Paine: His Note Book."— Great Caesar! 
Where did this come from? 

THE SENTINEL 

From a hater of Caesar — out of my breast pocket, 
Sir. 

MONROE 

Yours! You — Thomas Paine, the author of "Cora- 
monsense"? 

PAINE 

Unauthorized by His Majesty: that's me. 



Act II] WASHINGTON 173 

MONROE 

[Rising and saluting.] 
Why, Sir, permit me to salute — the Revolution! 
'Tis a privilege to meet Public Opinion face to face. 

PAINE 

You meet just a sentinel at his post, Sir. 'Tis a 
privilege of serving Liberty, to inquire: "Who goes 
there?" 

MONROE 

Your inquiry will bum the ears of kings till their 
doomsday, Mr. Paine. Your challenge rings over the 
Atlantic. For my part, I should like to see it made 
the Atlantic doctrine — No passing for Old World 
tyrants this side of the world! 

PAINE 

And why not doctrine for t'other side, too, Mr- 
Monroe? 

MONROE 

[Sitting again.] 
Well, Sir, — a touch of modesty. I administer my 
doctrine by the dose — half a world at a time. 

PAINE 

Not me, lieutenant. My mother didn't bear me 
modest, nor twins; so, following her maternal exam- 
ple, I never give birth to a principle by hemispheres. 



174 WASHINGTON [Act II 

MONROE 

{^Holding one foot and twinging.] 
Well and good, Mr. Paine, but hadn't we better 
confine our universal dreams to gypsy camps — con- 
sidering our style of bed tonight? 

PAINE 

[Humming the words.] 

'0, what care I for a goose-feather bed 

With the sheet turned down — ' 
[Breaking off with a short laugh.] 
Ha! "Raggle-taggle" : that's the tune of Revolu- 
tion, Sir. 

MONROE 

[Wearily.] 
Oh, I don't know ! There's times I almost think we 
deserve goose-feathers — and tar, too — for such loy- 
alty as ours. 

PAINE 
[Sharply.] 
What's that! Is that your ripe judgment of our 
cause? 

MONROE 

No, Sir, not ripe — just rotten. I'm dog-tired — 
tired of failure. The game's up! We know our 
dreams — but look at the facts. 

PAINE 

Well— what facts? 



Act II] WASHINGTON 175 

MONROE 

Listen ! 

[He pauses a moment.^ 
You hear that sound? 

[They both listen in silence. 
Shadowy in the background, the form of 
Washington re-passes and disappears.] 

PAINE 

You mean the river there — tlie ice rattling? 

MONROE 

Yes: the death-rattle of our rebellion. I mean, that 
Delaware river can tell our story. That's us — the 
American army. Last summer, what were we? The 
warm, quick stream of our country's passion, welling 
like hot blood,, pouring out of the hills — the turbulent 
current of a continent. And now, in December, — 
what now, ha? That's us — out there: a death-cold 
stream, congealing while we move: a current choked 
up with the ice of its own broken heart — any hour to 
be buried under, gone, stone-cold as this river bank 
tonight. 

PAINE 

[Humming, as he fondles his musket.] 
Tor tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field' — 

[Speaking.] 
And those facts. Lieutenant? Skip the metaphors. 



176 WASHINGTON [Act II 

MONROE 

Facts, Sir? The facts are disaster and retreat. At 
Brooklyn Heights — failure, retreat; New York — the 
same; Fort Washington, Fort Lee — lost, both; the 
Hudson — lost; and here now for months in Jersey — 
ignominious retreat: deserters, dropping off like rats 
from a wreck: militia without honour; officers without 
obedience; a Congress that votes battalions, but no 
money — and this nearly two years since Bunker Hill! 
So here, Mr. Paine, this Christmas night, while the 
German hirelings are rum-drinking over the river 
there in Trenton — these are the facts: To expel from 
America His Majesty's twenty-five thousand regulars, 
stuffed with plum pudding — here we are: twenty-four 
hundred retreating frozen-bellied gypsies! 

PAINE 

[Quickly.] 
And one general. 

MONROE 

[Rising slowly, speaks with quiet emotion.] 
Aye, Sir — one general. After all, for us, I guess 
that's the only fact. For, if needs be, we'll follow 
that one the gypsy path to hell. 

PAINE 

[With a gesture of silence, points to the back- 
ground.] 
Shh! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 111 

[Silently, once more, in dim silhouette, the 
form of Washington paces past and is gone. 
For a moment, they stand watching, motionless. 
Then Monroe speaks, under his breath.] 

MONROE 

Him? — Is this camp-fire his? 

PAINE 

[Nodding.] 
I'm his sentinel here. 

MONROE 

1 bear a dispatch to him. 

PAINE 

Not now: not for half an hour. That's my orders. 
He's thinking. He thinks — alone. 

MONROE 

And walks like that? 

PAINE 

Sometimes. Sometimes he just stands — like a tree 
— all night. 

MONROE 

What, and sleeps — standing? 

PAINE 

Not sleeps, I guess; though often his eyes are 



178 WA SHINGTON [Act II 

closed. He calls it, — taking his cat-naps. And 
sometimes he takes 'em walking. 

MONROE 

Walking! 

PAINE 

Like we saw — there. 

MONROE 

[Taking out a folded paper.] 
But this dispatch, Mr. Paine? 

PAINE 

Follow me, Sir: I'll take you to Colonel Hamilton. 
Since the General met him in New York, he's made a 
son of him. — He's over yonder, with General Knox. 

MONROE 

[Taking Paine' s hand in the dim light, follows 
him, limping.] 
Some future Ghristmas, Mr. Paine, we must resume 
our fireside conversation on the doctrine of hemi- 
spheres. 

PAINE 

Hemispheres? — No, Sir: give me globes! 

[They disappear in the darkness. 
After a moment — pacing past again in the 
background — the huge form of Washington 



Act II] WASHINGTON 179 

pauses, comes slowly down half way to the fire 
and stands there. 

In long military cloak, three-cornered hat, and 
great boots, his hands still clutched behind him — 
his posture is erect as an Indian. 

Around his throat is a piece of woollen cloth. 

His eyes are intently fixed, his lips compressed 
with painful tightness. 

He remains perfectly motionless. 

Vaguely the sounds of wind and river-ice 
deepen the silence of their pausings. 

Soon, from the right, very quietly, the slight 
small form of a young Man comes into the gleam 
of the fire. He is in uniform, shabby but borne 
with alert distinction. He passes over to the fi,re 
and waits there. 

As he crosses the gaze of Washington, the 
eyes of the latter follow him and continue to look 
at him for a moment, before he speaks in a tone 
hoarse with cold.] 

WASHINGTON 

Ah! Hamilton — you? 

HAMILTON 

Yes, your Excellency. 

WASHINGTON 

Are the boats secured? 



180 WASHINGTON [Act II 

HAMILTON 

Yes, your Excellency. 

WASHINGTON 

All? 

HAMILTON 

Yes, Sir. 

WASHINGTON 

[Murmurs.] 
Ah! 

[Slowly, he begins to pace again. 

Hamilton waits, near the fire. 

Soon Washington speaks again, abrupt.] 
Oh! Alexander! 

HAMILTON 

What, Sir? 

WASHINGTON 

You dispatched my letter to Mt. Vernon? 

HAMILTON 

To Lady Washington: Yes, Sir. 

WASHINGTON 

[Murmuring low, as he paces.] 
You're a good boy — you're a good boy — 

[After a moment, pausing again, he speaks 
with staccato sharpness.] 
Well?— Well? Your report! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 181 

HAMILTON 

This message, by Lieutenant Monroe, from General 
Gates at Bristol. Shall I read it. Sir? 

WASHINGTON 

No: give me the gist. 

HAMILTON 

General Gates has received your orders. He un- 
derstands it is your plan to strike the Hessians tonight 
at Trenton, with five co-operating divisions, com- 
manded severally by yourself, himself, Generals 
Ewing, Putnam and Griffin. Accordingly, he has dis- 
patched General Cadwalader to the river. 

WASHINGTON 

Well? 

HAMILTON 

General Cadwalader has looked at the river. 

WASHINGTON 

Has he!— Well? 

HAMILTON 

He considers the floating ice impassable — 

WASHINGTON 

Considers! — 

HAMILTON 

The chances desperate, and he is gone back to 
Bristol. 



182 WASHINGTON [Act II 

WASHINGTON 

Gone back to Brimstonel Let him sit there and 
broil his rump! — What else? 

HAMILTON 

Another message from General Gates, by Captain 
Wilkinson. 

WASHINGTON 

We are twice favoured. — Well? 

HAMILTON 

General Gates himself has set out for Philadelphia, 
to inform Congress — 

WASHINGTON 

Inform Congress — what of? 

HAMILTON 

That he disapproves your plan, and cannot co- 
operate. 

WASHINGTON 

Ah! 

[After a pause.l^ 
What further messages? 

HAMILTON 

From General Putnam, at Philadelphia. 

WASHINGTON 

[Quickly.] 
What's Put say? 



Act II] WASHINGTON 183 

HAMILTON 

He regrets his division cannot march tonight. 

WASHINGTON 

[Slowly.] 
Old Put says that.— Well! —Next? 

HAMILTON 

General Ewing regrets the ice, but will try whatever 
seems most practical — in the morning. 

WASHINGTON 

Try! He'd better try lard, and fry in his own fat! 
That's practical for corn pone — ha ! — in the morning! 
[Washington's features contract, and he 
gnaws fiercely the edge of his hand, before speak- 
ing again.] 
So: tliat makes three divisions time-stalled — ^use- 
less. 

[He glances slowly at Hamilton.] 
And the fourth — ? 

HAMILTON 

General Griffin sends word — 
[He pauses.] 

WASHINGTON 

What are his regrets? 



184 WASHINGTON [Act II 

HAMILTON 

He regrets his necessity to abandon New Jersey 
altogether. 

WASHINGTON 

[Lifting off his hat, raises it high aloft.] 
Jehovah, God of chariots! And this is the thunder 
of Thy captains! 

[Dashing his hat to the ground, he grinds his 
boot upon it.] 
Blithering skulkgudgeons! These are my fighting 
generals! 

[An immense shudder wrenches his body. 
Controlling a sharp spasm, his face grows 
marble. Stooping, he takes up the crumpled hat 
and holds it in silence; then, slowly turning his 
look from the hat to Hamilton's face, he speaks 
with tense quiet.] 
Alexander: not a word of this! You understand? 

HAMILTON 

Not a word, your Excellency. 

WASHINGTON 

Your report, Sir, is satisfactory. At midnight, oui 
division will cross the Delaware — alone. 

HAMILTON 

[With quiet emotion.] 
Nay, Sir: not alone. 



Act II] WASHINGTON 185 

WASHINGTON 

I said — ours alone. What other forces are left to 
attend us? 

HAMILTON 

The Ages, your Excellency: the forces that prevail 
over river barriers: there, Sir, still flows — the Rubi- 
con. 

WASHINGTON 

[Hoarsely.] 
Nay, my boy — not so classic. The Delaware will 
do, for tonight. 'Tis no Caesar stands in my boots. 

[With smouldering fire, that dartles, flames 
and then bursts.] 
But 'tis Caesar, I reckon, who camps over there with 
his legions: a Caesar, hog-latin from Hanover, who 
would make the Atlantic his channel — who hires his 
own German breed to help suppress English freedom 
in both England and America, making his chancellors 
his apes and his commoners his minions. I'd rather 
you called me Hannibal-in-a-cocked-hat than such a 
Hessian Roman! 

HAMILTON 

I am well corrected. Sir. I cannot gainsay — the 
cocked hat. 

[With swift ardour, going near to him.] 

But oh, my dear General, I want you only to know 
my utter conviction of this night! 



186 WASHINGTON [Act II 

WASHINGTON 

[Looking at him — slowly.] 
Your conviction, son? 

HAMILTON 

This night is the beginning of the world. — Darkness 
was over the face of the deep, and He said, "Let there 
be light!" 

WASHINGTON 

[Murmurs.] 
And there was light. 

HAMILTON 

And there was light! 

WASHINGTON 

Without form and void — and after that — light and 
order. 

HAMILTON 

Order — and organic structure: a new world — a 
new-builded unity — a new self-government above war- 
ring tribes — a commonwealth above kings — and its 
name, America! 

WASHINGTON 

You are young — and you have seen it. 

HAMILTON 

[Ardently.] 
I see it. Sir! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 187 

WASHINGTON 

I am getting old — but I too have seen it — darkly. 
Old eyes and young must work together, boy. Will 
finds its way. 

HAMILTON 

And the will is here. 

WASHINGTON 

Ah?— Where? 

HAMILTON 

[With a reverent smile. ^ 
Under that crumpled hat, Sir. 

WASHINGTON 

[Smiling back faintly — speaks, after a 
pause.] 
The boats are ready? 

HAMILTON 

On the face of the deep. 

WASHINGTON 

Over there — no crossing back. Over there — are 
the looted homes of freemen, and the German loot- 
ers — keeping the birth of Christ, there. Over that 
water, my boy, is our final stake: 'tis fight to a finish. 

HAMILTON 

And fight — for the beginning: our commonwealth 
above kings! 



188 WASHINGTON [Act II 

WASHINGTON 

In the beginning — there was a word spoken^a 
watchword — and the stars held their watch ever after. 

[From the distance^ on the right, a single faint 
bugle-note is heard.] 

HAMILTON 

Sir, yes! Our watchword: the men are waiting 
for it. 

WASHINGTON 

[Mutters, looking off.] 
No stars yet tonight! 

HAMILTON 

[With fervour.] 
You will give it, Sir — you alone. I'll go tell them. 
This pad. Sir: write it on this; I'll return in a moment 
%nd get it. I beg of you, Sir, — the watchword! 

[Handing to Washington a little pad of 
paper, Hamilton goes swiftly off in the dark- 
ness, right. 

Left alone, Washington continues muttering 
to himself.] 

WASHINGTON 

Above warring tribes. Out of the void — a form. 
And there was light of stars — and order. Void, and 
then — victory ! 



Act II] WASHINGTON 189 

[Slowly — his lips still murmuring — he begins 
to pace back and forth, his hands clutched behind 
him. 

While he does so, out of the night, a low, flute- 
like music plays softly the air of 'Raggle-taggle 
Gypsies.' 

As the melody ceases, Washington pauses {at 
the left) by the tree-bole, that forms there a col- 
umn for the arch-like opening of snow-crusted 
evergreens. 

From there — as he moves again slowly down 
to the log by the fire, and sits there, holding the 
little pad in his left hand — he is followed from 
behind by a dim-robed Figure in red, its face 
cowled in deep shadow, its arms crossed in large 
folds of its dark garment. 

Pausing for a moment behind him, where he 
sits, the Figure bends above him in the firelight. 

Reaching a shadowy arm, it touches with its 
right hand the right hand of Washington, poised 
with a pencil to write. 

At the touch, once more, faintly a bugle is 
heard, the hand of Washington writes, and the 
bugle-note dies away as the Figure steals silently 
back to the centre of the snowy arch. 

Washington does not move or speak; but now, 
from the right, low voices are heard and Ham- 
ilton reappears. Glimpsed with him for a mo- 
ment are the forms of Tom Paine and two or 



190 WASHINGTON [Act II 

three others in regimentals, who retire at a ges- 
ture from Hamilton. 

Approaching Washington, Hamilton is about 
to speak, but checks himself at the other's intent 
posture of absorption — his open left hand hold- 
ing extended the little pad. 

Seeing this, Hamilton — drawing closer — 
glances at it in the firelight, and reads:] 

HAMILTON 

[Murmuring low.] 
Victory or death. 

[Then, swiftly in silence returning toward the 
dimness, right, he speaks in vibrant tone:] 
Victory or death! 

[As he disappears, the Voice of Tom Paine 
answers from farther off: ''Victory or death!" 

Still farther, then, in the distance, other Voices 
call faintly to each other: "Victory or death!" 

These Voices have hardly ceased, when once 
more a far bugle is heard. 

Washington stirs slightly, clutching his hands 
before him. 

Now the bugle is answered by another, and in 
the arched middleground, the Dim-Red Figure 
in the Cowl quivers with deepening colour. 

Washington tightens the great joints of his 
hands, and breathes heavily. 



Act II] WASHINGTON 191 

And now, through the dark, increasingly, the 
upblowing notes of bugles begin to rise, like 
irises of sound. And as they rise, the grey 
of gust-blurred moonlight in the background 
clears to a pallid blue, which deepens and — fill- 
ing swiftly with stars — takes on a glowing inten- 
sity of azure. 

Against this sky of stars, impanelled by the 
shadowy arch, the red of the cowled Figure 
looms and dilates with the sanguine richness of 
flame. 

And now the bugles — as many as the stars — 
magnify their blaring notes to a martial revelry 
of music, crashing the dark with their silver and 
brazen peals. 

Staring upward in the midst of this sound and 
the colour behind him, Washington starts to his 
feet in the foreground — both arms upraised in a 
gesture immense and terrible — his voice break- 
ing with sharp joy, as he cries hoarsely aloud:] 

WASHINGTON 

Victory! Lord God of battles — victory! 



END OF ACT II 



COMMENTS AND SUGGESTIONS 

I_NOTE ON PRODUCTION 
By Walter Hampden 

Necessarily these hints are merely of the slightest, in the 
hope that each group presenting this episode will contain some 
one person of the requisite imagination and skill to develop 
and supplement them. This consideration leads at once 
to the all important one of direction. Choose, by all means, 
a stage director, either from your own group, or an amateur 
or professional coach in whose judgment you can place con- 
fidence. He it is who will have to sense the effect of the 
whole: to unify the lighting, the scene, the atmosphere, 
the mood of the acting, into one complete harmony. 

The first suggestion to him is to read the text without 
analysis and try to catch his early strong impressions. Let 
him hold these and not depart from them. They will 
form the base of his work. With some thought and quiet 
meditation they will flower into the essentials which will 
stimulate his imagination to the discovery of all the organic 
details. 

Casting the parts is also important. Do not be too 
realistically historical. Appearance for the role is a sec- 
ondary consideration. If it happens to go along with things 
of more importance, power to project personality and the 
illusion of character, so much the better. Departures from 
age, stature, looks and voice are not of primary consequence. 
If there be an exception it is, of course, in regard to the 
actor of Washington. Washington is so much a part of 
the visual memory of the people of this country that it is 
wise to favor physical suitability in this instance. The main 
elements to base a choice upon are audibility of voice, dis- 
tinctness of enunciation, vitality and responsiveness of tem- 
perament, and that personal quality that spells character, 
by which I mean that sympathetic capacity to feel it and 
•exhibit it. 

Think of contrasts of type for Paine and Monroe; the 



latter bluff, moody, low-toned ; Paine, keen-eyed, with an 
incisive utterance, and intellectual enthusiasm. Hamilton 
must impart a distinct sense of confident youth, so as to 
offset the heroic and mature Washington. Quilloquon may 
be almost anything that is racy of the soil, provided he be 
mellow and colorful. He should typify generations of retro- 
spect and have a spring in his step and an alertness of 
glance that suggest his relation to ages yet to come. Though 
he has music to sing, remember his rendition should not be 
operatic, but instinct with character. Let him keep to the 
time, yet half speak the song. Any clever boy and girl, 
not prettified, can pantomime sufficiently for the two chil- 
dren. 

It would be idle to indicate stage mechanics — they are 
so adaptable to conditions of place and person. The dia- 
logue is supplemented with numerous directions explanatory 
of the author's intention, and Mr. Jones' design for the 
scene is replete with suggestion. 

Viewing this action as a whole, it stands, coldly lighted 
and deeply shaded, enwrapped by the solemn bracing at- 
mosphere of the Declaration of Independence. Quilloquon's 
ballad sets in fanciful way, with its wistful gaiety and plain- 
tive charm, the serious mood of the action to follow. This 
action again, before Hamilton's entrance, has a lighter qual- 
ity than after, so let Monroe not be ponderous in his de- 
pression and let him and Paine keep this early part of the 
scene cheery with the "gameness" of an invincible optimism. 
Emphasize, however, those details of business which indi- 
cate cold and physical suffering. The passage where they 
note Washington as he passes to and fro in background 
must not be heavy in tone, but rather weighted by pauses, 
otherw'ise their play will detract from the force of Wash- 
ington's method in the later part of the scene. 

For the actor of Washington, I w^ould merely suggest 
that he do as little as possible. Repose will give him 
strength and a reduction of facial play and gesture to a 
minimum will aid to render him heroic — and a hero in the 
fullest sense he must be without theatrical strut or pose. 

A final word for Mr. Director: Don't try to fix your 
methods of expression upon your actors, for they won't fit. 
Imprint your conception on their minds, inspire tliem with 
your enthusiasm, hold them together by authority of under- 



standing rather than by discipline. Foster the growth of 
vour ideas in them and their own as well, and eliminate as 
much detail as possible. There is always the one expres- 
sive detail which implies all the rest. Seek it. 

II.— NOTE ON COSTUMES AND LIGHTING 

By Robert Edniond Jones 

Use a white floor-cloth. In the illustration bare trees 
are suggested by strips of cloth dyed dark grey and hanging 
in vertical folds from above the line of sight. They are 
touched with white where they meet the floor. Behind 
them the floor-cloth is draped over a flat board cut in the 
silhouette of a low hill ; behind this again is a straight blue 
curtain or cyclorama. 

Paine, Monroe, Washington and Hamilton wear regi- 
mentals of buff and blue, stained and ragged, and three- 
cornered hats. Washington also wears a military cloak 
and great boots. The dress for The Figure suggests by 
the varying folds of its material, both the Adams Memorial, 
by Saint Gaudens (in the Rock Creek Cemetery, Washing- 
ton, D. C), and the figure of the Prophet Hosea in the 
frieze by Sargent, in the Boston Public Library. Its face 
should be completely hidden. The color of the robe is 
the red of the stripes of the American flag, which in the 
finale is seen in combination with a sky of blue, which is 
the blue curtain brightly lighted. 

The lighting of the scene is the most important element 
of the production. For this scene there are two kinds of 
light contrasted with each other: firelight and cold blue 
moonlight. The fire is suggested in this way: Half-burned 
logs of wood heaped together so as to conceal electric bulbs 
dipped in yellow, red and blue, rightly proportioned. No 
footlights; no borderlights in the foreground; hidden spot- 
lights of dim cold blue shining obliquely down on the white 
floor-cloth; a spot-light of red to strike The Figure in the 
center. Rear border-lights in blue and a strip of blue 
lights concealed behind the hill to shine on the sky curtain. 
These last (for the sky and The Figure) must be ar- 
ranged on "dimmers" or otherwise to grow gradually 
brighter and brighter at the end of the scene. The sky- 



cloth is perforated with tiny holes; behind each perforation 
is an electric "star." The stars are used, of course, only 
at the end of the scene. Or the stars may be more simply 
rendered by small, three-pointed pieces of tinsel pinned to 
the curtain, unseen until the moment of illumination. 

Necessarily these notes are merely hints. All will depend 
on who makes use of them. They are meant as suggestions 
to local producers of imagination, who will use or discard 
them according to their own discretion. 



III.— NOTE ON INTERPRETATION 
By Percy MacKaye 

Concerning the production of this Dramatic Action by 
amateurs, I would add only these brief comments (on 
certain details of interpretation) to those of Mr. Hampden 
and Mr. Jones. 

The bell and the chimes in the beginning should be 
mellow in tone, and should be carefully rehearsed so as to 
be a subordinate undertone to the chanting of the Declara- 
tion, itself an effect which should be rendered under direc- 
tion of one whose ear is sensitive to the right cadencing and 
rhythm of chanted poetry. 

Quilloquon, as the Town Crier, while differentiating his 
acting and voice from those of the singing Ballad Singer 
(his second appearance) yet remains always the balladist, 
and should render his clear-spoken quotation from the 
Declaration with the rhythmic — but not metrical — utterance 
of spoken poetry. 

For "the Raggle-Taggle Gypsies" Quilloquon is dressed 
in old-time home-spun eighteenth-century garb, weather worn 
with a touch of gypsy color; the children in simple smocks, 
also weather worn, bare-footed, their hair not curled but 
very simply nautral. 

In regard to the dim-robed Figure at the finale of the 
Action (which represents the elemental symbol of human 
liberty, still cowled and but shadowly revealed) the stage 
direction on page 189 reads: "Reaching a shadowy arm, it 
touches with its right hand the right hand of Washington." 

This is incorrect and should not be done. The Figure 
must not touch Washington physically but must indicate, 



with serene majestic gesture, that its power dominates the 
action of Washington and dictates the action of his arm and 
hand in writing the watchword. 

Neither should The Figure move from the back nearer 
to the audience than to the middleground, nor approach 
close to Washington, but should dominate from behind — by 
the height of its great-robed stature — his seated form in 
the foreground. For this, of course, an actor of great pro- 
portions (a man, not a woman), endowed with majesty 
and quiet grace of gesture, should be selected. 

In the final blare of bugles sounding outside, the volume 
of sound should never be so loud as to suggest realism, the 
climax of the crescendo must be reached before Washington 
speaks in the instant of silence immediately following it, 
so as not to drown or blur the articulation of the actor of 
Washington, in his hoarse cry of "Victory! Lord God of 
battles, victory!" In this respect, do not let the words 
"crashing the dark," in the printed stage directions on page 
191, mislead the stage director to create an actual roaring 
loudness of sound : the stage directions do not intend a real- 
ism of noise; they intend to suggest a rising crescendo of 
music always far-sounding as in a dream, and never obtru- 
sively loud. 

Of course — and especially for performances by amateurs 
— it goes without saying that this final vision and music of 
the Action cannot be rightly achieved without expert equip- 
ment in lighting apparatus and lighting directorship, as well 
as patient rehearsal. Without such expert equipment and 
rehearsal, the visionary portion of the firiale would better be 
omitted altogether, rather than risk a mawkish or tawdry 
light-effect which would negate or cheapen the acting and 
the emotion of the scene. In case the visionary part be 
omitted, then the final effect must depend on appeal more to 
the ear than to the eye, rendered by means of the right 
cadencing and interval-spacing of the off-stage voices, in their 
murmured diminuendo of "Victory or death," the last repeti- 
tion of which (in any case) is the cue for the final speech of 
Washington. 



By Percy Mac Kay e 

WASHINGTON 

THE MAN WHO MADE US 

A Ballad Play 



"Mr. MacKaye has given us in this work a new form for the theatre, 
for which we must be grateful; but beyond and away above the form in 
importance stands the play itself. Here we have something worthy of our 
country." — Newj York Tribune. 

"By a striking invention, the author is able to carry his story along with- 
out halting, and at times to fuse both past and present." — New York Sun. 

"In intent and spirit it is wholly admirable, sturdily American, broad- 
minded, fervid in maintaining the principles of liberty and brotherhood for 
mankind." — The Nation. 

"Mr. MacKaye has conceived a work that upon historical background 
shows the trend of the momentous happenings of today and gives a glimpse 
of the import of the future." — Neiv York Telegraph. 

Of Alexander Hamilton, as depicted in Mr. MacKaye's play "Wash- 
ington," Dr. Allan McLane Hamilton, his grandson, writes in a letter to 
the author: "No one has ever grasped Hamilton's character as have you." 

"Percy MacKaye has done the thrilling job of giving us in Washington 
a magnetic, passionate, resourceful, lovable human being." — Everybody's 
Magazine. 

"Why has George Washington never been 'starred' on the American 
stage? The most impressive and dramatic figure of our history, the First 
Citizen has never authoritatively had the boards till now in the ballad play 
of Percy MacKaye." — Samuel Hopkins Adams, in Collier's Weekly. 



With six scene designs by ROBERT EDMOND JONES 



$2.00 net — at all bookshops 
Alfred A. Knopf: New York 



|N6?1 



